


warm me up

by polyamory



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Comfort No Hurt, Gen, Other, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-23
Updated: 2016-05-23
Packaged: 2018-06-10 05:28:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6941758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/polyamory/pseuds/polyamory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>4 things and 3 people that help Bucky get through and keep him warm</p>
            </blockquote>





	warm me up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [softpunkbucky (Spacedog)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spacedog/gifts).



> just a feel good fic (i think ot4 might be implied?)

1\. warm sweaters

One morning there's a gift lying on Bucky's couch when he wakes up. Well, he only notices it when he's made tea and he's settling in with a book, but it must've been there already. It definitely wasn't there yesterday night and while he knows his fair share of spies and sneaky bastards, only one of them knits.

And it's definitely self-made. The blue wool is soft to his touch and when he picks it up it unfolds into the shape of– well, frankly he's not sure whether it's a tent or a sweater. He smiles to himself.

He brings the sweater up to his face and it smells like Natasha, which confirms his suspicions. He shrugs it on over the t-shirt he's wearing and it's the softest thing he's ever felt. It's like lying on a cloud. It's like wearing a hug.

The sweater is so big it reaches halfway down his thighs and the sleeves fall down over his hands.

There are– yup, his self-made cloud hug sweater has thumb holes. Natasha is officially his favorite person.

He sinks down deeper into the couch cushions.

That afternoon when he meets Natasha for yoga he's still wearing the sweater and he doesn't say anything and neither does Nat, but he can see the corners of her mouth curling up and she hums a little, some melody he doesn't recognize.

 

2\. hot chocolate

It's not Bucky's worst day, not by a long shot. Hell, it's probably not even in the top ten. That said, it's not a good day either, and when Sam gets home and sees Bucky sitting on his couch (because he really can't be alone in his empty apartment right now and Sam's house feels so homely and lived in) he doesn't even pause, just goes right for the candy cabinet.

"We're making hot chocolate," Sam announces. Bucky is so unused to... doing good things for himself. To treating himself because of things like having a bad day, things that are not necessary to his everyday survival.

But, shit, he reminds himself, he's not just surviving, he's learning how to live. And so he gets up and leans against the counter, watching as Sam gets to work.

He gets out the Nutella and starts heating up milk and somewhere in between there he starts telling Bucky about his day and Bucky kind of spaces out, watches the steam rise from the milk pot, listens to the familiar cadence of Sam's voice and when he blinks Sam is handing him a cup of hot chocolate, giving him a gap-toothed smile.

"Secret recipe," he grins, ushering Bucky back to the couch. They sit on opposite ends, their backs against the arm rests. Sam pokes Bucky in the leg with his foot. "Drink up."

The hot chocolate is, well, it's more of a syrup, it's so thick, rich and sweet. It makes him feel warm and full on the inside, and now he understands why Same only made their cups half full.

"This is really good," he murmurs, face half hidden in the cup, and Sam smiles wider and Bucky smiles back because he likes the way Sam smiles at him.

 

3\. art

Bucky loves sleeping in – loves sleeping full stop – so it's no surprise that when he makes it out of bed on Sunday Steve is already on the couch, sketching, and from the looks of it he's already been out for a run and taken a shower.

"Hey," Bucky greets, plopping down on the sofa. Steve pulls his feet back far enough for Bucky to sit and puts them in Bucky's lap. Bucky lets his hands settle on Steve's calves.

"Whatcha doing?" he asks after a few minutes of silence. He leans forward to steal Steve's abandoned cup from the coffee table. Steve digs his heel into Bucky's thigh in retaliation.

"Drawing," he says, looking up at Bucky with a shy smile. "You wanna see?"

Bucky nods. There's no time he ever doesn't want to see Steve's art, if only for the way Steve smiles at him, all shy and flustered. It's adorable how even after they've known each other for 90 years Steve still blushes at the prospect of showing Bucky his art.

But it's not just that.

Sure, Bucky doesn't know a lot about art, but he still loves Steve's art. Loves the fine lines of his drawings, the strokes of charcoal and the soft shadows. It's beautiful and Bucky relishes at seeing such beauty, relishes the thought that he can look at these drawings because he is a human and humans do things like look at art just because it's pretty and it makes them feel happy.

Bucky is allowed to be happy.

When Steve turns his sketchbook around to show it to him, Bucky's heart does a little jump, because on the page there's him. Him now, not him from before, which Steve also draws a lot.

It's a close up of his face and upper body. He's wearing a tank top and he's holding a cup in both hands, his head tilted down slightly. It could be a memory from any number of mornings just like this one they're sharing now, peaceful and quiet, the light soft. Soon Natasha will come, Bucky can just picture her walking into the frame, stealing his cup out from under his nose and Sam will laugh and make them both a new cup, exactly the way Bucky likes it.

Bucky stares down at the drawing and Steve fidgets nervously.

"Do you like it?"

"Yeah. It's beautiful, Steve." The thing is, it really is. Bucky's metal arm is on full display and yet he looks soft and beautiful. It's another reason he likes seeing Steve's art. It's how Steve sees him and Steve sees him as something –  _ someone _ beautiful.

It helps Bucky remember that he can be that way, soft and beautiful, not a weapon anymore.

"It's really beautiful," he says again and Steve smiles at him, his hand warm on Bucky's arm.

 

4\. hugs

Bucky is pacing the length of the corridor, nervous energy coursing through him. (The pacing doesn't actually make it better, if anything it makes it worse.)

They should be here by now. What if something went wrong? The newscast stopped reporting half an hour ago, that should be enough time to go through debrief and come back here. But what if something happened after that? What if Steve needs him and they have no way of reaching him? He has no way of knowing.

No. Steve is fine. He's okay. He's got Sam and Natasha and the whole rest of the team watching his back. He doesn't need– no, that's wrong. He needs Bucky but he needs Bucky to stay here. At least for now.

Bucky goes into the kitchen to put on the kettle. They're gonna want tea when they get home. Bucky can do that much for them. He can be here, waiting, with tea and–

The key turns in the lock and Bucky is out in the hall before the door handle's been pushed down and then the door opens and Steve is there, Sam and Natasha behind him.

They're fine, not even really banged up, just dusty and tired. Before he can stop himself he's stepping into Steve's space, hugging Steve to his chest in a way that doesn't really work the way it used to when Steve fit snug under his arm.

But this is good, too. Steve folds down around him, head coming to rest on Bucky's shoulder, his arms around Bucky's waist, rubbing along his spine, holding him close. Steve is here. Steve is whole. Bucky can feel his heart beating against his own chest.

"I made tea," he whispers into Steve's neck and Steve pulls back, just far enough to smile at him.

"That's great, Buck," and he sounds like he really needs it.

"C'mon," that's Sam, tugging at Bucky's elbow. "Let the man take of his cowl, he'll have hat hair for weeks." And then Sam is there, pulling Bucky into his arms as soon as Steve lets him go.

Steve snorts behind them. "You just want him all for yourself."

"Guilty as charged," Sam says. Bucky can feel him grin, his cheek pressed against Bucky's. He lets himself cling to Sam for a moment longer, savoring the warmth, the familiar smell of him.

When he pulls away Natasha is there. She's already gotten out of her suit and put on sweatpants, Bucky didn't even hear her leave. She's wearing one of his sweatshirts – not the one she made him, no one gets to wear that except for him – it's one of the ones he stole from Steve, but he's pretty sure Steve got it from Sam when they first met because it's far too small for him.

She hugs him, tighter than Steve or Sam, squeezing his ribs, her hands balled into fists in the fabric of his shirt. Her ear is right over his heart and he knows that it helps calm her, a steady heartbeat to break her out of the rhythm of combat, remind her that she's human. They're not that different, the two of them.

He leans his cheek against the top of her head, breathing in the smell of smoke and sweat, but under that there's the coconut scent of her shampoo. (Sometimes when she's away on a mission for Shield, Bucky uses her shampoo and it calms some of the ache in his chest.)

By the time they get to the kitchen Steve and Sam have already finished making the tea and are sitting down on the couch. There are two cups waiting for him and Nat on the coffee table and a space for them on the couch between Sam and Steve.

It's home.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr at [twlesbians](http://twlesbians.tumblr.com/)


End file.
